Small Things

Walking by my neighbourhood today, I heard a high pitched scream, probably from a little girl. I was appalled, not by the scream, but my reaction to it. I coolly walked by the house, not a second thought to what I heard, not even a second glance to the probable place it came from, no anxiety;  it was as if I never heard the scream. I have seen the children of the house. I have seen them playing outside. They shout, they scream, they are normal kids.  So, I think, my first instinct was that it was just the kids playing around. And I think, until I realized how I reacted to “a scream”, it was the only instinct I had. But can I be certain that the scream I heard was not indicative of child or sexual abuse? Or am I just watching too many movies, and reading too many articles of abuse? If it was a scream arising from abuse, I just turned a deaf ear to it.  … I don’t know and am not sure if anybody or everybody reacts the way I did. But today it got me thinking, how normal is a

My name is Puja Subedi, and  I  am very attached to my surname “Subedi”.  My religion/tradition/customs demand of me (or every female) to change their surname upon marriage and take that of her husband. I don’t want to. Not only that, I also want my children (I know it’s kind of too early to be thinking about ‘my children’ but let’s just continue the story) to take my surname, even if it is as just a part of their name and not their surname.  I have always wondered, and felt sad at the thought, “why the children take only the father’s surname? Why is it so that they take only the father’s lineage forward? Why is the mother forgotten? Why does the child not carry forward her name, her legacy when it was her who carried the child in her womb for 9 months suffering much distress and then gave birth with such immense pain? Why is it so everywhere in the world?”  Today, after many years (I must s ay) of wondering and feeling sad about it, I  have an answer that explains much, a  satisfying

As a woman, who do you think is your enemy? Who do you think is your oppressor? Who do you think binds you from reaching your utmost potentials? Look closely, it’s not the men, it’s not the society either. Guess who then? It’s us. We women are our own enemy. We are the quickest to judge, judge our own kind. We judge a woman far more than we judge a man. From what she wears to how she talks, to who she talks etc etc., we always have something to say, an opinion to give on what kind of a girl she is. (Not what kind of a person, what kind of a “girl”.) I will try to make my point with different scenarios. I have not experienced firsthand any of it, so I might be incorrect in some things, or even everything I say, and I would be glad to be corrected. Let’s take a married couple. Situation A: the husband is having an extra-marital affair with another woman. The wife may have an outburst of anger directed towards the husband, but she will blame the woman. She will blame her for woo

I remember the day of our selection interview, 25th February, 2010. It's been a long time since. Sitting in front of a large panel of people, I opted for MBBS. I remember the excitement and satisfaction when I saw MBBS written beside my name and putting my signature on that piece of paper. and the exclamation of joy when I learned I would be placed in Sri Lanka. People are sometimes forced to choose their courses, sometimes in accordance to their parents' wishes, sometimes in accordance to their situation in life and some students take whatever opportunity provides them. It was not so for me. In fact my mother clearly expressed her worries and skepticism about me taking medicine. I met many people from the very profession and all of them advised me against it. Dad, though he favored me taking medicine, told me that he was fine with whatever I chose as a career path. Though I knew this may not be the profession for me, for it requires much hand-skills and people-to-people in

I am scared that when am dead and gone no one will remember me, that not a single person will have a single decent memory of me to keep my existence alive. Forget about after death, people have forgotten me even when am alive breathing, talking and creating nuisance. Am trying to find myself. I was this very outspoken person and realizing that I regretted those outspoken acts of boldness too much, I chose to take the back seat, listen and observe but then I felt like that it is not me and I will soon be forgotten this way. So I decided to be bold again. No, I still regretted those acts of boldness. These internal conflicts of mind never seems to find any end. This is my life, my story but am either playing the role of an antagonist or am hidden in the backstage. I may not remember myself,  who else will?! I have always failed to leave an impression upon people's heart, that, I guess, will never change. But it makes me really sad to know that my existence will end with me, be

She was sitting on the edge of a cliff, or was it just the edge of her bed. She looked around her, papers were scattered everywhere. She expected a storm to come, burst open her window and blow away all her memories, like it always happened in books and movies whenever the protagonist was upset. Looking outside she found it was a warm, sunny day and only a light breeze was playing with the chime right outside her window. It was a beautiful scene. She looked around her again and thought "but indeed a storm has blown and is still blowing, but it is all inside my head." She groaned in frustration, slipped from the edge. On the floor, she put her head on her knees and cried. And she cried hard. She gave into all that was hurting her inside. Eyes laden with tears, head bursting with pain, she raised her head to hear the chime swinging in the breeze and streaks of sunlight dancing on her bedroom floor, and thought no wonder the authors put storm in scenes where the heroine suff

Sometimes life comes crashing down on you with a single realization, and for a while you do not know where you are, what you should do or where you should go from that point onwards. I have had these crashing realizations one after the other and all about the same thing. what I chose to do everytime was to let life go on, let things go on, and see where it takes me, to a better place or worse because at that moment there I didn't know what I was heading to, or should I change my course. There was regret indeed but I didn't know if the regret was going to get bigger if I walked away or if I kept walking. Since then I have taken my chances and kept walking prepared for pits and abyss, and have met none. But what I didn't realize was I was walking downhill, down a gradual slope into a deep valley from where there is no return to the top. But there is a paradox to this, am in a good place, things worked out for the better. As much as it is bad, it is good at the same time,

I have this bad habit of comparing myself to others and end up making myself rather unhappy. Now I don't compare with a person as a whole. Here's what I do: I take someone with the prettiest face and feel bad about my looks, I compare my size to someone slim and trim and feel like a heavy weight champion, I take the topper, the smartest in the lot and compare myself to him/her and feel like an idiot. (the root.) Now, how many people actually have it all? They are a rarity, and i am vain enough to want it all.  I should actually be glad about the things I have, I might not be pretty (forget prettiest) but i am not ugly, or at least I don't think I am and that should be good enough. I might not have a model's body, but am not obese, am not even over-weight and that's more than good enough. No, am not a genius, or a prodigy or blah blah.... But am still average.... And that's not good enough ( I have always cared about brains more than anything else) but still then

When I talk, i sound like a bitch, even to myself. But I don't know how much longer of this i can take. My thoughts don't belong to the 19th century neither to today. I read people's words, hear them speak, see their actions and think to myself, is this necessary?? But again wonder, am I being too judgemental and righteous?? This is not the world I wish to live in. Sometimes I think, you can live your life and I shall live mine, but how long can I pretend, how long can I ignore. I am not able to keep pace with the changing time, the changing norms of society. I was always slow, and here I am, unable to change my thoughts, unable to move from the principles I was brought up in. But honestly, I don't know if those who are changing are the ones who are vain or is it those of us who are holding back to olden days? But the truth is, though science is developing and technology is evolving, we humans are definitely going back to our barbarian days. I hope against hope tha

I always wondered how my love story would begin. I knew I would have one. Having a family history of love marriages, I knew I would end up in one too, and to have a love marriage one needs a love story, right! So this wondering began early (the initial thought maximally contributed by movies and partly by novels).  I was definitely not that “pretty, sweet girl down the street” that every guy fell for. I was known as Hitler and Dorji Dorlo, depicting how scary I was (I think). The first time I think I fell in love and got flat rejected (so much so that the guy wouldn’t even look at me) I realized I was ugly too. Dad said that he fell in love with mom the first time he saw her… well that was out for me. High school came to an end without even a single guy looking my direction romantically. Oh! Wait I had one person who approached, and it was epic (as in hilarious). (And I am saying that because it was way too obvious that he held no feelings for me, he was only asking me because hi

Today we had a psychiatry lecture on Stigma. And as the lecturer explained to us the subject matter with various examples, I was in tears. Those who attended the lecture would know that there was nothing in it to cry. I don’t know, the stories just touched my heart enough to tear up my eyes. Now back at home, with a lecture note in front, and roughly 10days to my semester exam, I began wondering about this thing called social stigma, stigmatization, and if I knew what it meant. Truth, not really, I haven’t had a firsthand experience of social stigmatization but I have something to share in that area. We were taught today that stigmatization has a very profound effect on people; it causes depression that borders to violence, when it happens for an extended period of time. I am in no position to explain all that, but I just want to site a few personal experiences on how the “branding” by the society affect an individual’s thinking of himself/herself. I will tell you my own story.

It’s not like I have not thought about this and realized about our different worlds before, but it had never struck me this overwhelmingly. whenever I felt like my life is difficult (which I know in my depths that it ain't in the slightest bit) I usually think about other people who have bigger problems than me. People closest to us strike us the first, I think about my parents, who are living apart,  and not because they  want to and their loneliness and pain. They don’t have a fountain of youth, they are aging everyday, and this is the time they need each other the most and that’s one thing they don’t have, each other’s company. Still, they are okay, they are all right (for now), and I still get very worried about them, I wonder  their anxiety about their parents, who are rapidly moving towards the end. No, I definitely ain't one with the biggest problems. And then, today, just sitting on my table and staring at my notes, I suddenly got this overwhelming feeling of how w

What had exams meant to us till date? Cramping information in our head on the night before the exam and vomiting out on the paper next morning. Well, that's how atleast I did all my exams and am sure 99% of people will join me in this statement. And what was the main purpose of the exam? Passing, simply passing. It didn't measure your level of knowledge or understanding, marks only graded our ability to memorize and vomit adequately. And all was forgotten once the exam was done with. But since I have started my clinical work on my way to become a doctor (may be not even a good one), I have realised the true essence of failing. Last two exams I sat, called OSCEs (student's objective clinical examination), I performed pretty badly. And the truth is I was not upset because I messed it up, I have been upset because it didn't upset me. Today, after the second exam that I messed up, I have realized why. May be all other profession allows one to eat and vomit and forget,